


there’s a storm you’re starting

by katewonder



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Acts of Kindness, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dorian does not cope well with weather, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 17:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4844450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katewonder/pseuds/katewonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian is somehow surprised by the snowfall that comes with it being winter each year, but a simple act of kindness leads to a first date and hopefully to much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there’s a storm you’re starting

Each year, the snow surprised and horrified Dorian in a way that made all of his friends and coworkers mock him. He’d been there long enough now that he should have expected the weather turning colder but every year it was a bitter surprise that always happened when he was running late and hadn’t dressed appropriately. Today was apparently going to be such a day.

“Take gloves,” Lavellan had called out to him as he pulled the door of their apartment behind them, which at this point was just too late. Dorian had no idea where his gloves even were, and it hadn’t been cold enough to justify gloves yesterday, so he thought he would be fine, until he pulled open the front door of his building and was confronted by frozen water falling from the sky.

“Fasta vass,” he muttered under his breath and checked his phone before turning to look back up at the sky. Yep, that was snow falling from the sky. No time at all to run back upstairs, not with the elevator broken. Not with his boss already on his back about him being late twice this week already. It was only three blocks to the subway, he could do it. Even if his pants didn’t have pockets deep enough for his hands, or if his jacket pockets were at such an awkward (but fashionable) angle that putting his hands into them made him look like a chicken.

By the time he got to the subway, he felt that his fingers were going to drop off, and Lavellan was going to mock him because she had told him to take gloves. He was never going to hear the end of it when he got home. He tucked his hands into his armpits and jogged on the spot until the train came. The train, blissfully full of people as it was, was still icy cold, and the body heat of being packed into a peak hour train wasn’t helping at all. Everyone was cold and shivering together, and Dorian made his way towards the middle of the train where it was possibly a little bit warmer.

He ended up sharing a pole with a very handsome, very tall blonde man, jammed almost into the man’s chest. Dorian was kind of just leaning against it so he could tuck his hands into his armpits, and each time the train lurched to a stop he would fall into the man, who would smile and steady him and go back to reading on his phone. He was very handsome, and any other day, Dorian would have smiled or flirted or at least tried to be more of a normal human about the whole thing, but he was too cold today. Too cold for flirting with perfect men. The world must have been ending.

The fifth time it happened, Dorian actually looked up and actually apologised. “I’m very sorry,” he said, as the man helped to steady him, and he was smiling, like this was funny. “I don’t do well with the cold. I’m from somewhere much warmer. I can’t feel my fingers.”

“Here,” the man said, and took his own gloves off and offered them to him. They were clearly handmade, and were so lovely. Dorian looked at them, then up at the man who was still smiling. There was a scar across his lip, and he felt himself staring at it, before dragging his eyes up to look at him properly.

“I can’t take your gloves,” he said, even though he wanted to so very badly. Partially because they looked so warm.

“Sure you can,” the man said, smiling, and pressed them into Dorian’s hands. “My mother would be so angry if she found out I let someone’s fingers fall off when I could have prevented it.”

“Thank you,” Dorian said, and it was strange to be handed gloves from a stranger but he put them on anyway, still warm from the handsome blonde man’s body heat.

“You can keep them,” the man said, and smiled, and Dorian’s heart fluttered a little bit, but that could have just been the feeling returning to his fingertips. “This is my stop,” he said, and smiled one last time before he was pushing his way through the carriage to get off. If he looked back at Dorian, he didn’t notice because he was too busy looking down at his hands and smiling.

\--

Two weeks later, Dorian was still wearing the gloves, because they were lovely and clearly made with love and honestly being given them was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him. Who gave a stranger on the subway their handmade gloves just because they looked cold? Lavellan had decided that whoever he was was creepy, because who just gave someone their gloves? Dorian hadn’t told her how handsome the man was, but he couldn’t stop thinking about that fact himself.

Dorian honestly never expected to see the other man again, and then one Thursday morning he found himself on the train with him again. “Oh!” Dorian said, and pushed through the carriage to where he was standing. “It’s you.”

“Hey,” the blonde man said, smiling, and it took a second but recognition passed through his eyes and his smile grew. And he was just as beautiful as Dorian had been remembering he was, all tall and broad shoulders and curly blonde hair. “How are your hands? Didn’t lose any fingers?”

Dorian wiggled his fingers, still in the other man’s gloves, which was a little embarrassing but he was going to own it. “Toasty warm. Did your girlfriend make them for you?” he asked.

“I don’t, uh, I don’t have a girlfriend,” the blonde man said, the tips of his ears flushing red. “My little sister made us all gloves for Christmas last year. Don’t think I’m so kind for giving them to you, they were a little small. And I have other gloves.” He wiggled his fingers, now in a pair of really soft looking leather gloves. Dorian had a pair like that in his dresser at home, but he’d kept wearing the gifted ones.

“Well, I probably owe you a coffee,” Dorian said, smiling. “For saving my fingers. If you have the time?”

“I do,” he said, and his blush got a little deeper. It was adorable, really, and Dorian couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Let me get you a coffee,” Dorian said . “And I’ll give you your gloves back.”

“Sure,” he said. “Um, I’m Cullen. By the way.”

“Dorian,” he replied, and followed Cullen off the train and up onto the street.

\--

It felt a little bit like a date, just a date happening at rush hour on a Thursday morning, but Dorian didn’t mind. It had been a while since he’d been on a date, especially with someone so handsome. Cullen was twenty seven years old, and was originally from the country, and gave strangers his gloves because they looked cold because that’s how his mother had raised him.

Dorian peeled the gloves from his fingers and went to slide them across the table, and instantly he missed the warmth of them, curled his free hand against his coffee cup just to seep the warmth from it. “Here, you can have these back,” he said.

“You can keep them,” Cullen said, and he rubbed at the back of his neck. “They suit you. The colour, I mean. And your hands probably need them more than mine. I’m used to the cold. And I have other gloves.”

“Thank you,” Dorian said, smiling slightly as he put the gloves back on. “Let me buy you dinner for them,” he said, because he was feeling bold on this freezing morning. “If, uh, that’s something you’d be interested in.”

“Um, yes,” Cullen said, his ears turning red again as he ducked his face to hide in his scarf. “Yes, that’s something I’d be interested in.”

“Here,” Dorian said, and dug one of his research notebooks out of his bag, tore out a page, scribbled his phone number onto it and slid it across the table. “I should be getting to work before I’m later than I am now. Text me? We’ll work out the details.”

“I will,” Cullen said. “I’ll definitely text you.” And he smiled at Dorian so brightly that for a second he forgot how cold he was, and for the rest of the day the memory of that smile kept him warm.

\--

They met on Wednesday night in front of some tiny bistro, the snow lightly falling down around them. Dorian had angsted for hours about what to wear. Eventually Lavellan had come in, dug some clothes out of his wardrobe and told him that if he didn’t leave she was going to follow him on his date and narrate it loudly from behind him. So he put on the jeans and the shirt and the jacket she gave him, spent ten minutes less than he usually would have on his hair. He looked good though, if he thought so himself.

Cullen was already there when he got there, reading something on his phone, but he put it away when he saw Dorian walking over. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, smiling. “Trains were delayed. And I couldn’t decide what to wear.” He felt Cullen’s eyes give him the once over, smiled when they made eye contact.

“I think you did a good job,” Cullen said, who hadn’t done too badly at getting dressed himself. Tight jeans, dark red plaid button up shirt, leather jacket. His hair had been styled back but one of his curls had escaped from the rest and it was just such a handsome look that Dorian wanted to look at him forever. Drag his fingers through the other man’s hair, rub his cheeks against the stubble along his jaw. “Come on, let’s go in before they give our table away.”

It wasn’t the sort of place Dorian would usually eat at, but it was cozy. Perfect first date location, the sort he’d never plan for himself, but it was lovely. They’d been seated in a corner and been left to look over the menus after Cullen had let Dorian order the wine.

“Tell me about yourself,” Dorian said. “Who are you when you’re not giving away gloves on the subway?”

“I’m doing a phD,” Cullen replied, and Dorian couldn’t help but stare. Cullen did not look like the sort of person who would still be at school. “History. Battle tactics. It’s… I was in the army,” he said. “And when I was discharged I didn’t know what to do so I went back to school.”

“You were in the army?” Dorian asked.

“Yeah,” Cullen said, and it sounded like he didn’t really want to talk about it. “What about you?”

“I work in astrophysics,” Dorian said. “At the museum, in their research department. It’s a lot more boring than it sounds, but I love it. I moved here for work about eight years ago.”

“And you still haven’t gotten used to the snow?” Cullen asked, the start of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

“I’m from much warmer climates,” Dorian said, smiling. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to the snow. I don’t know if I ever want to. Are you from here?”

“A few hours out of the city,” Cullen replied, smiling down at his hands. “My parents have a farm. I was there when I came back from service, but then I moved here last year when I got accepted into my course.”

“They must be proud of you,” Dorian said, smiling.

Cullen flushed red again. “Yeah, I guess so,” he said.

The waiter came over, took their orders and walked away again. “Why astrophysics?” Cullen asked, as the waiter walked away. “Also what in astrophysics? It’s a broad subject, isn’t it?”

“Hideously so,” Dorian replied. “I’m studying time travel, technically. Whether it’s possible. Amongst other things.”

“Is it?” Cullen asked, and tilted his head slightly, like he was curious about it.

Dorian grinned, reached up to stroke at his moustache. “Here’s hoping,” he said. “At least just to keep me in a job, you know?”

Over dinner they talked, and it was by far the easiest and most pleasant date Dorian had ever had. Not that he went on many dates. Dating usually wasn’t his style. When they finished, Dorian swatted Cullen’s hand away as he went to pay.

“My treat,” Dorian said, smiling. “For the gloves. I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Okay,” Cullen said. “Only if it’s my turn next time.”

Dorian was pretty sure that the expression on his face was a combination of shock and the general pleased feeling you got when a date went well enough that there was going to be a second date. Cullen bit at his lip, as if maybe his comment had been too forward, and Dorian reached across the table to pat his hand. “Sounds wonderful,” Dorian replied.

Outside, the snow was falling so very lightly, in a way that made him think of what he’d assumed snow was like as a child. Adorable and soft flurries rather than the awful storms they got in the dead of winter. He pulled his scarf tighter around his neck, pulled Cullen’s, his, gloves onto his hands.

“Are you catching the train home?” he asked, not so subtly hoping that they could bump into each other on the ride home, stand pressed together, depending on how busy it was.

“I actually live about two blocks away,” Cullen replied.

“I’ll walk you,” Dorian said, but in a tone of voice that hopefully said that a walk was all it was. He didn’t want to ruin this, didn’t want to destroy things so quickly, not when he actually liked the other man. Liked him more than a quick and dirty tumble in bed, as much as he would have liked to get him naked and under him.

As they walked in a companionable silence, Cullen reached down and took Dorian's hand in his, and it was so warm even through the gloves they were both wearing. He kind of didn’t want this evening to end, but it did.

“This is me,” Cullen said, pointing up at a building with his free hand.

Dorian figured he had nothing to lose, and so smiled and stepped into Cullen’s personal space and brought their mouths together gently.

If movies had taught him anything, it was that there was nothing more romantic than kissing someone during a very light snow storm. And he supposed it was romantic. Bitterly cold, but in a way he wasn’t overly paying attention to. Cullen’s hands were big, and warm, and one was cupping his face so gently that Dorian forgot how cold he was as their mouths slid together, warm and wet, and exactly what he’d imagined it to be, the tiniest scratch of Cullen’s stubble against his skin.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” Cullen said, drawing back, his hand still on Dorian’s face, gloved thumb stroking over his his lower lip so very gently. “I’d like to do it again.”

“Me too,” Dorian said, staring at Cullen’s mouth. Cullen smiled, leant back in and kissed him again, and honestly if this kept on it was going to be very hard for Dorian to step away from him. Cullen’s teeth caught his lip and Dorian broke away because he had to. “Call me,” he said, kissing the corner of Cullen’s mouth so very gently.

“I will,” Cullen said, and returned the kiss. “I definitely will.”

Dorian watched him go inside his building, turned to walk away towards the subway, when his phone rang. He smiled, answered it, kept walking towards the subway. “Well hello there,” he said, smiling.

“Your ass looks great in those jeans,” Cullen said, and Dorian looked over his shoulder at the building Cullen had gone into. Gave a little wiggle, just to hear Cullen laugh over the phone. “Dinner on Friday?” he asked.

“Yes,” Dorian said, smiling. “Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this idea was shamelessly stolen from a prompt on tumblr and I took a break from the two much longer fics I've been working on to try and write something manageable and finishable. 
> 
> title doesn't really fit but naming everything after halsey lyrics has kind of become a running joke


End file.
